


If He Be Worthy

by trix_lyesmith



Category: Age of Ultron - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Brothers, Gen, Inferiority Complex, Other, Rivalry, Self-Worth Issues, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:01:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3850192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trix_lyesmith/pseuds/trix_lyesmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NOTE: SPOILERS FOR AGE OF ULTRON</p><p>A filler fic exploring the thoughts and feelings of one man and his hammer.</p><p>After certain events of Age of Ultron, Thor looks back upon the beings who have attempted to lift it, and what it means to be worthy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If He Be Worthy

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd.  
> Comments welcome. Nice ones anyway ;)

Worthiness.

It was a subject which had plagued him for centuries. 

Was worthiness an honour? A skill? Or simply a burden, that only one with strength may bear? 

He remembers, long ago, the day that hammer finally yielded to his grasp. He and his brother would often accompany their father to the weapons vault, that is, whenever he would he allow them to. Often it would be on an unofficial trip but occasionally they three would oversee the instalment of a new, and yet more exotic, artifact. During these times Odin and his Einherjar would become rather involved and, therefore, dull to the young Thor and Loki - there would be no dramatic testing of the weapons, no showy displays of power to impress the young princes. So inevitably, the boys would grow bored and play hide and seek amongst the relics; which had all been fair and good sport until Loki began learning the art of magics. Then he would often dis-apparate, or attempt multiplication of himself or, his favourite and altogether infuriating move, astral project, so that Thor would run at him...and fall flat on his face, at which point Loki would emerge from somewhere behind him, clutching his sides with mirthful laughter. 

If left to their own devices for too long, the boys would seek out their favourite relic, Mjolnir. 

With bellowing voices, the boisterous young warriors-to-be would take turns to clutch the hammer's handle with smug faces, each believing that that particular attempt would be the right attempt, - that they would be the one, and only one, worthy enough to lift her. With cries of 'for Asgard!' or 'by the power of Odin !' or 'and thus! Loki became king!' or some such equally brag-worthy retort they would heave and haul on that hammer… 

And it would never move an inch. And so the other would fall about laughing, until _he_ were dared to give it a try 'if he be so bloody clever'. 

Eventually, an irate Odin would seek them out and would lecture them, relating the tale that they both knew so well; one day only a warrior worthy of Mjolnir’s power would lift it - and certainly not any unruly, wayward young princes, who should perhaps have been in bed or something… 

As they grew older, it became much more than just a child’s game. Loki, who seemed especially embittered that he could be outwitted by a metal hammer, would sneak into the vault alone - Thor once caught him leaving and confronted him about it but Loki would never explain his vexation, or why he now looked at his brother with an ounce more distrust than he had in the days before. 

And then one day, when he and his Warriors Three, the Lady Sif, and Loki had returned from their first battle in the far reaches of Nidavellir, the brothers - chaperoned by their father - visited the weapons vault. They had found a relic on their quest, one which Odin had deemed dangerous enough to be locked away in the collection, and it was now their responsibility to oversee the installation. 

After this task had been completed, the relic safely secured, Thor had sat down on the edge of a plinth to take rest, and lowered his axe Jarnbjorn to the ground. His brother stood beside him and the two revelled in their triumphs a moment. And then, from the corner of his eye, Thor had caught sight of Mjolnir, glinting despite the dull glow of the lanterns in the vault, and gestured to it. 

"So brother, do you think now we are worthy of this hunk of metal?" Thor had grinned. Loki had snickered with a raised brow, still filled with the ecstasy of battle, "Well, I should bloody well think so!" 

Thor had risen to his feet, the two still laughing that they would even make an attempt after failing all these years. It had become a joke; a sport. He’d gripped its leathern handle, which, upon reflection, had felt suddenly rather comfortable in his grip, and mockingly cried "there is no match for the Mighty...!" 

Loki's face; he'd never forget it. So abruptly did his mirthful expression leave him that Thor still swears he can feel the gut-wrenching disappointment his brother felt in that moment. 

As Thor’s hand had pulled up with force, the hammer had come with it. He'd stumbled with the shock and the unexpected weight of it. He’d stared at it dumbly a moment as it sat in his hand, proudly pointing up to the sky. The two boys, in that instant became young men, and had regarded each other anew. In the second he'd looked away to Mjolnir, Loki had buried his disappointment and replaced it with a fawning amazement. “B-brother…!” he’d exclaimed with pride. But Loki always underestimated how well Thor knew him. He was hiding his shame, his embarrassment; his frustrations. 

And Thor had realised that lifting Mjolnir had been more important to Loki than it ever had been for him. 

Before either could speak, Odin had rounded the corner and gasped. "Thor..” he had muttered with an awed triumph, then had exclaimed, patted his son's back, praised him and called out to his Einherjar for celebration and the preparation of a feast and during this expression of immense pride, the princes had looked one to another; one feeling the weight of responsibility now hanging by his side in his hand, and the other the crushing weight of perceived inferiority. 

That hammer had been the only thing to come between them in two centuries. 

Worthiness. It had been something he'd never been able to explain or discuss with anyone since that day. During that night's celebrations, whilst both inebriated, Loki had joked that maybe his honours in battle had made him worthy also. Taking the hammer from Thor’s hand he had been met only by a very literal representation of his sinking pride. Mjolnir dropped to the ground quicker, and with a bigger impact, than Volstagg after twenty-four tankards of ale. 

Thor was worthy, and Loki was not. It had never been made clearer for the younger sibling, and Thor had tried his best to quash that feeling, to reassure his brother, and to ease his own guilt. So many times Thor had imagined how lifting Mjolnir would feel. But he'd never imagined it would have been like this. He didn't feel worthy, rather, he felt…alone. 

Until this day. Now he stood watching this… creature. This...Vision - a being he himself had helped Stark and Banner to bring to life - who stood before him now….. _holding Mjolnir._ His constant weapon, companion - ball and chain whom no one except he had managed to raise in centuries. And this... new bearer, this new worthy champion stood before him… nonchalantly complementing the hammer’s balance. 

It was a rather surreal experience; that was undisputable. 

He cast his mind back to the hours previously, where he and his new friends, his team, had been relaxing, drinking ale and revelling in their days’ triumphs when Barton had suggested Mjolnir was an artless trick. Had that been so, it would have been a trick worthy of his late brother to fool such strong and mighty companions as these. It had then become a game for them, taking turns in trying to lift her, and each failing just as spectacularly as those two young princes had centuries before them. (With the exception of Steven Rogers, who moved her but half an inch. That had been mysterious and… troubling…..he did not like to dwell upon it.) 

After much protestation and rogue speculations about it needing Thor’s own fingerprints, he had stood and bragged ‘I have another theory…you’re all not worthy” 

A sentiment which had then been, rather horrifyingly, echoed by a newborn Ultron. A character with ‘infinitely bad moral choices wired into his hard drive’, as Banner had later put it. In any case, in the moments of chaos that proceeded Ultron’s entrance, Thor had temporarily forgotten his concerns and musings about ‘worthiness’ and what it meant if his own friends, people he trusted to support him in battle, were not worthy of this relic. 

When Steven Rogers had nearly picked up that hammer, he had felt that icy pang of inferiority, of displacement. For that one moment he felt…anxious. How could he share a power, a burden he had shouldered for so long? How would people see him now he was no longer the only bearer? What if Rogers were to take that honour from him, that honour he had lived with and embraced and owned for so long? 

But now, faced with this Vision, wielding Mjolnir, he saw that it was not so bad. To share worthiness; to bear the burden on two sets of shoulders. 

“It’s terribly well-balanced” Vision had commented, after swinging Mjolnir into Ultron with force to knock him clean from his shell in one fell swoop, and for once, Thor saw his hammer in action as a spectator, and not the competitor. 

Thor grinned stupidly. 

Worthiness does not have to be borne alone. 

“Well, if there’s too much weight you lose power in the swing.”


End file.
